Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 (32 page)

“Is she like this when she watches movies?” Fran’s question was directed at Lauren.

“The worst. Hit Play.”

Fran moved the mouse and hit another button so the image expanded to fill the whole screen. It started with the kids all milling around, three little cherubs standing earnestly at attention with their tiny violins. “Class—class!” Em heard Mrs. Carvalis’s voice. The class settled, and the three children played a short, rousing reel, their smiles filling their whole faces as they finished and bowed. “Who taught you that song?” came Mrs. Carvalis’s disembodied voice.

“Miss Emmaline!” the kids sang out.

Mrs. Carvalis knelt in front of them, then, holding up the mic. “And what do you think of Miss Emmaline, Bobby?” she asked the first little boy, his hair messy and his eyes large.

“She’s
usually
here on Wednesdays. It’s fun when she’s here.”

“She makes me feel like I can play anything.” Katie spoke next, her face shy under her fringe of red hair.

The third girl was small and thin, her hair tied up in tight braids. Little Mandy Su, who’d joined their class just that year and hadn’t even spoken for the first four weeks. “She gave me her violin from when she was little,” she said, her fingers spasming on the violin as Em pursed her lips. “She told me it would be mine for keeps if I played all year and made it feel special.”

“There you have it,” Mrs. Carvalis said, turning to the camera. “Emmaline Andrews really
is
a princess.”

“What?” Em sat up sharply as Fran tapped another video. The screen filled with another teacher’s class, then another. Then two parents waving at a camera. And the old men at the doughnut shop, and a student of her mother’s who dropped off books every week, without fail, since Em had come home.

“Em reads to her, I know she does,” the student was saying now. “She reads her mom the same fairy tales Dr. Andrews teaches in her class along with the other lit subjects. Because fairy tales have always been the professor’s favorite.” She glanced away, then looked fiercely at the camera. “Dr. Andrews deserves a princess for a daughter, and that’s what Em is.”

There was a graphic at the bottom of the screen that flashed then: #princessEm.

“Do not even.”

Fran’s fingers clicked another browser window, and hashtag princessEm was scrolling, with pictures posted from her former schoolmates, college friends, festival competitors. The comments ran by too quickly to read, and Em didn’t try. “This is terrible,” she moaned.

“Are you nuts? This is amazing.” Lauren was sitting up straight now too. “Facebook?”

“Stories of Emmaline are coming in from friends and former high school pals, and wonder of modern miracles, no one is being an asshole. I think because of the kids’ videos and the YouTubes of Em’s own concerts that are now up online.

“My what?” Em shook her head. “I don’t have anything online.”

“Well, you do now. Someone set up a Facebook page yesterday morning and has been boosting the posts. Marvin something?”

Em’s eyes widened. “That’s the church choir director,” she said. “He’s retired now. He taught at my grade school.”

“Well, he’s a fan.”

“Show us more,” Lauren urged. “What’s the reach, any news pickup?” She stood and strode over to the TV, switching it on.

“Local so far, but it’s an ABC affiliate, so you know it’s going on
Good Morning America
.” But Fran wasn’t done yet. “Especially after this. It was actually the first thing to pop up, I think.”

A shaky YouTube video screen settled, and Em’s eyes went wide. “Mom,” she managed, reaching out to touch the screen.

Settled in the middle of her favorite place in the house, the sunroom, surrounded by her books and seated next to her husband, her brilliant mother, Dr. Honor Andrews, smiled out at the camera. Still so thin and fragile, she was dressed in her favorite university outfit—a long, flowing dress with embroidered sleeves, black tights, and clogs.

Her hair was pulled back at her neck, and though it had gone nearly white in the aftermath of the accident, that simply served even more to give her the sense of being some otherworldly sprite who’d touched down to earth for just a short time.

“My daughter’s name is Emmaline Aurora Grace,” her mother said, each word pronounced succinctly, exactly, and clearly with great effort. Her hand was tight on her husband’s as he beamed at her with love in his eyes. “And she already is a princess.”

Em’s hand flew to her mouth, but before she could even let a sob escape, Lauren’s voice called to her from the center of the room. “Hey, what’s wrong with Kristos?”

Her attention jerked from Fran’s laptop to the large screen TV, and she blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. For a second, she thought she was back in the castle again, watching the borrowed video of the royal family. Because Kristos was once again in front of a crowd of reporters, standing tall and rigid, his face devoid of all emotion. He was speaking in Garronois, but the words didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. He’d gone hollow again.

“He’s totally losing the crowd,” Lauren said. “Is he sick?”

“He’s something.” Fran was leaning forward too, her brows drawn together in a worried frown. “He looks like someone died. Can you get those closed caption things to come up?”

Em could only stare at Kristos’s stark face, his empty eyes. She’d never wanted to see him look like that again, not if she could help it. Which, if she was honest with herself… she could.

Her own heart was proof of that. Not twenty minutes earlier, alone on the balcony, she’d sat with her violin and tried not to cry, swamped with a feeling of isolation and abandon. Then she’d seen the smiles of the children, the teachers. Smiles intended for her. Then she’d seen her parents as they’d looked into each others’ eyes, their love so full it made her ache.

And just like that, something had switched over in her heart, had come to life again. Not forever, maybe. Not completely. But something
had
changed.

She now knew firsthand the power of having the support of people who loved you…even if you didn’t know how much they loved you. Especially if you didn’t realize that.

And if she could do anything to help Kristos, help him show his true passion to his people, his dedication to their country and everything it stood for, how could she not do it?

Because she
did
love him. She’d known him for barely a heartbeat, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t hers, he could never be hers, but that didn’t matter, either.

She loved him, and that was enough.

She bolted upright, her eyes fixed on the TV. She had no idea where Kristos was right now, but his number one bodyguard would. A bodyguard who still guarded their condo complex, despite his clear distaste for the assignment. Well, that assignment was going to come in handy now.

“Lauren, I need you to get Dimitri.”

“Him?” Lauren looked at her sharply. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Your highness.”

The aide stepped away from the microphone, and Kristos swung his gaze out to the crowd. They were restless, but at least they were quiet. He’d stopped all questions relating to the Americans within the first fifteen minutes of this press conference. He didn’t want to hear about those four young women ever again, he’d said definitively. It was time to look forward.

Only, as he’d moved through the torture that was his speech, he found himself not looking forward, but back. Back to the first time he’d seen Emmaline’s wide eyes and laughing face, back to when the mere touch of her hand on his had seemed to make everything in his body come alive. In the end, he had failed her, he supposed, but no more than he had failed himself.

Now he needed to move on. “We have much work to do,” he spoke into the microphone. “Much work that will ensure that Garronia will claim its proper place among our allies, and that we will make new allies as well.” He droned on, his thoughts a thousand miles away to where Emmaline and her friends would be heading next. Dimitri had told him that their passports had finally been delivered to the castle this morning. Emmaline might be on a plane even now, flying away forever, returning to—

Something shifted in the crowd, and he flicked his glance toward the movement, frowning, even as he continued his memorized rhetoric. “In the coming weeks, we will be welcoming to our shores the delegates of the special committee on financial stability, and—” he stumbled as his gaze caught on someone in the crowd.
Could it be? No
. “And we are very pleased to take on this topic so critical to the future of Garronia.”

A gray-haired woman edged to the side, and then he did see her. Emmaline. She looked more beautiful than he could have imagined. Her hair down around her shoulders, her body encased in a long, cream-colored sundress baring her arms. Her hands were clasped up her chest, her hair was uncovered and floating softly in the breeze, and she was looking at him like—

She was looking at him like she was a woman in love.

Kristos
. Her lips moved as she spoke his name, but she was too far away for him to hear her, of course, too far away for him to see anything except that she was here. That she hadn’t left. That she was staring at him with such naked adoration that anyone who turned to see would record it, and it would start all over again—the attention, the speculation, the questions, the furor. It would start over, and she must know it would start over, and yet she wasn’t turning away from him. She wasn’t hiding.

She’s here.

A sudden surge of excitement coursed through him, and Kristos turned back to the cameras, the crowd. He could feel the buzz beginning at his change in demeanor, but he didn’t care. He knew—finally—what he had to say. “But you know, there is time enough for me to tell you of those plans. Instead, allow me to tell you something else. Something of my past, and of Garronia. Why I am honored to be here, before you now, in whatever role you will have me. For I have been blessed to serve this country, and I have learned so much in doing so.”

He blinked as someone shouted his name, then as another small cheer was raised. He spoke on, telling the reporters the same non-classified stories he’d told Emmaline about his experience in the military—had he really shared those stories only a few days ago?—and the crowd’s responses got even bolder, a rallying cry going up as he explained the sacrifice of the soldiers he’d fought alongside. The Garronois who had so boldly given their strength and their bodies and, in some cases, their lives to serve this glorious country. How could he not do the same?

Another shout sounded from the media, then someone called out Emmaline’s name. Kristos stiffened, but Emmaline did not. She stood forward, and her face remained as open and unguarded as it had throughout his speech. Radiant. Beautiful. She was so clearly in love that the weight in Kristos’s chest suddenly seemed to burst into flame.

He would not hesitate now, he resolved. Never again, in fact.

“Emmaline.” The entire royal contingent around him devolved into excited chatter as he spoke the word, but Emmaline, though clearly surprised to hear her name over the microphone, didn’t duck away, didn’t resist as she was urged toward him, despite the flurry of flashing lights and shouted questions. She was smiling; she was gracious. And she still had no idea what was to come, he suspected.

He should feel badly about that.

He didn’t.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she finally reached him, but he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it softly, then continued holding it as he faced the cameras once more. This time, he spoke English.

“My countrymen, I now have the pleasure of introducing you to a woman whom many of you think you know, a woman I have been lucky enough to welcome to Garronia these past several days. Much has been said about Emmaline Andrews. Some of it has even been true.”

This last earned him a chuckle, and Kristos continued. “She came to our shores not expecting any special treatment, yet she has conducted herself with dignity throughout—at least when I wasn’t mauling her in public. But, as those who know me well enough understand, I am but a man.”

That made even Emmaline smile, and he turned to her. “I’m sorry for all that you have experienced while in our care, Emmaline. It’s my fault, and I take full responsibility. You should not have had to endure it, and—”

His words were cut off as Emmaline lifted a hand to his face, turning it so that the back of her fingers rested on his cheek. The simple grace of the movement stole his breath.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Kristos,” she said. “You and your people have been nothing but kind, and you’ve given me an adventure that I will remember the rest of my life. If that required my picture to be taken a few times, then it’s more than worth it.” She blushed, but she didn’t waver in her gaze. “
You
are more than worth it.”

She looked out over the photographers again, and it took him a moment to realize she was addressing them directly. “Thank you all, so much more than I can ever express. Without you, I would never have received the blessing of so many people’s comments and good wishes, people I never realized I’d touched. Nor would I have had the memory of their caring to hold in my heart. It’s a gift I can never repay. You have brought me that. Garronia has brought me that. And Prince Kristos,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Has brought me that. Thank you.”